


This Work Is Currently Untitled

by ayoungrat



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayoungrat/pseuds/ayoungrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story begins a month after Fiona's been released from prison and Ian's had his mental breakdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pray To This Broken, Sallow Effigy

The raindrops on the roof woke Fiona. It was still fairly dark out when her eyes blinked open. She lay in bed, rubbing her eyes and resting her palms on her forehead as the day’s schedule listed off in her head:

Shower, Lunches so their ready when the kids wake up, go and buy breakfast for Ian before heading to Mickey’s to see him. _‘Maybe he’ll eat today,’_ she thinks. Meeting at ten. Run errands. Go home, be there when the kids are back from school. Make dinner and leave it in the oven to keep warm. Head to the diner. Come home, fall asleep and do it all again tomorrow.

The honorary matriarch finally pulls herself up, scratching at her messy hair as she yawns herself awake. She makes it to her feet and trudges out of her bedroom to the bathroom, cringing at the squeak of the knob in the shower as she gets the water running.

It’s only a little lighter when she’s downstairs alone with a cup of coffee in her hand as she leans against the oscillating washing machine. The feel is soothing as it reminds her of a simpler time when she had to lean against it with her foot propped up so the thing would actually work. A time before Jimmy and his money. Fiona would give anything to go back to those days but she tries not to dwell; that’s what the NA folk advise.

She packs two lunches for Debbie and Carl and makes a snack pack for Liam and leaves them in the fridge. She grabs her jacket, a scarf and a beanie before leaving the house. She hugs her arms in the cold, rainy wind as she walks a block away to the nearest McDonalds where she orders an egg mcmuffin, two hash browns and an orange juice for her brother.

Fiona finally gets to Mickey’s place. The creak of the stairs is familiar now. She doesn’t knock but enters quietly.

Mickey hears the door open and stirs awake, his arm still around Ian with his hand holding the redhead’s thin stomach. The boy’s only been eating once every other day for a month now. He lives in their bed. He only moves to get up and bathe, sitting in the soapy warm water, huddled against his legs with his head resting on his knees just staring into the the abyss of the shower wall. His skin is a shade more ghostly every week, his eyes hollow and sunken in as much as Mickey’s heart whenever he looks at the once healthy, strong boy he used to know.

Mickey quietly gets off the bed and walks out to the living room to meet Fiona. “Hey,” he says groggily, clearly exhausted. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as if he got any.

"Hey." Fiona looks around the place. It almost worries her how familiar it all looks, how she now knows where things are around the house like extra blankets and silverware and -of course- booze. She held up the paper bag of food and scoffed at herself and put in on the counter as they stood in silence. _‘As if he’ll eat it,’_ she thought, knowing the pimp was thinking the same thing probably. She took another deep breath before she picked the bag up again and walked passed Mickey toward his bedroom.

She crept into the bedroom slowly, tiptoeing to the bed. Ian was turned away, covered completely by the covers. The shades were drawn permanently; it was dark enough to be mistaken for midnight. Fiona sat on the bed next to him and gently laid a hand on his arm.

"Sweetheart," she said gently, rubbing up and down his shoulder. "I have food. Your favorite." She leaned in and began to hear light whimpers coming from under the blanket. She turned and saw Mickey standing in the doorway staring. Fiona turn back and leaned in, listening to her son -that’s what he was to her, after all- cry the moment he awoke. She thought she might break then, fighting back the tears as she ever so gently peeled the blanket from Ian’s face. "What is it, honey?" She caressed his head, wishing her comforting touch was enough to sink through his skull and take all the sad away.

Ian began to sob harder, his breath shaking as he soaked the pillowcase with more tears. “I… I woke up.”

Fiona froze, the cold sword of fear penetrating through her heart so fast and life like she could almost feel it come out her back. Ian feeling such misery for even being conscious had crossed a line in his depression; Ian was suicidal. Or at least he didn’t want to be alive anymore, that she knew for sure.

Mickey could feel the horror beaming from Fiona as she looked to the window, but he rejected it and walked back to the kitchen as tho he hadn’t heard Ian say anything or saw her reaction.

Fiona replaced the blanket over Ian’s face and left the room, wiping her tear-brimmed eyes. She went back in the kitchen where she found Mickey having his morning beer. “We gonna finally acknowledge what’s happening?” She said, nearly scowling at the back of his head as he paced in front of the sink.

He stopped and turned. “The fuck you talkin’ about?” Mickey had now gone full-thug with anyone who wasn’t Ian, relentlessly feeling threatened and being defensive about everything said to him; he was constantly irritable and had a paranoid vibe about him now.

Fiona held her ground, she wasn’t scared of this punk whom she’d seen cry time after time as he gazed at a crippling Ian. She stepped to him, standing tall and looking down at him. “He’s getting worse. And you know it.”

Mickey got close to her face, trying to stare her down as he didn’t respond. He knew she was right.

Fiona dissolved slightly. “You can’t fix him.” Her voice was slow and stern. “ _We_ can’t fix him.”

"Fuck you," Mickey spat. He turned as he felt that now familiar pain in his chest and the matching watering eyes.

"You can’t keep him here like this." Fiona walked up and turned the man around harshly to face him, a look of disgust spread across her lips. "It’s fucking cruel."

Mickey breathed heavily, like an animal in a cage staring at his own demons like he wanted to eat them. “I just got him back,” he said as tho it was a reasonable excuse. “I’m not letting anyone take him away from me again.”

"What- and keeping him a prisoner of this place, of his own mind doesn’t seem wrong to you?!" The mother yelled, throwing her hands in the air. Mickey turned away again. He could feel himself breaking. It was painful to know that he wasn’t helping the situation by keeping Ian with him. Fiona grabbed her hat from her jacket pocket and yanked it onto her head. "If you actually give a shit about him, you’ll get him the help he needs."

All Mickey heard after that was the front door slam and he was left alone, in the dark house with the raincloud hovering above outside.

——

The slurping sounds of Amanda’s mouth as her lips curled around his dick were actually helping distract Lip during his blowjob in his dorm that same morning. That was until his phone made a sound and he felt compelled to check it. Could be important.

**_'Go check on Ian? He's extra weepy this morning. I'm at a meeting and besides, Lover Boy is pissing me off…'_ **

Lip sighed, glancing down at the girl in the glasses. “Stop,” he said bluntly. She’d pulled off, looking up at him seductively.

"Am I not doing it right?" She winked, licking her lips.

"Nah, I just… I gotta be somewhere…" Lip trailed as he replied to Fiona’s text.

_**'No problem. He eat today? Should I bring him something?'** _

"Where?" Amanda asking, standing from her kneeled position. Lip checked his phone again.

_**'No. And yeah, could you? Maybe some fried chicken from Benny's? He used to love that.'** _

_**'Sure thing. Need a pack of smokes?'** _

"Gotta go check on Ian," Lip was slightly annoyed as he grabbed a jacket and slipped his arms into it. He checked his texts one more time.

_**'God yes. Need a whole pack after dealing with Mick this morning. Thanks.'** _

_**'I bet. Talk soon.'** _

"Your schedule says you have to-"

"Look, FUCK the schedule, okay?" Lip stared at her, breathing heavy with his mouth open. "Unless you can pencil in some time where I deal with my best friend being bipolar…" Lip slammed the door, leaving Amanda to rightfully feel shitty about herself.

——-

"Some of these guys that commented on those pics of your tits are pretty hot," Holly laughed, thumbing trough the comments on her phone during class. "You should friend some of ‘em."

Debbie didn’t respond as she mindlessly took notes from the board. She was hardly speaking more than Ian nowadays. Matty was being distant, so was Carl, and every conversation in her house was depressing.

"Hey," Holly nudged, "I’m having a party at my place this Saturday. Wanna come? Might cheer you up…"

Debbie scoffed, still frowning at her notebook. “I doubt going to an orgy at your place is gonna make me feel better.”

"Not an orgy… although it could turn into one if we wish hard enough." Holly’s eyes became extra ‘fuck me’ and she flicked her tongue out and wiggled it as if she were eating pussy. "Ya know, maybe if we get on our knees and pray for it? Beg for it?"

That actually made Debbie laugh. She tossed her gaze and tapped on her notebook with her pen. “I’ll think about it.”

———

Mandy answered the door when Lip knocked. They stared at each other for a moment. After all this time, Lip was still taken back by how beautiful Mandy was. Her milky, perfect skin. Her gorgeous eyes that could pierce through you like a switchblade. That awkward smile where she’d sometimes hide her teeth. Every time he saw her lately, he’d fall in love with her all over again. He knew it and it scared him.

"Hi," she smiled but looked down at Lip’s shoes. Kenyatta had told her not to look directly at other men for too long. Said it was cheating and disrespectful to who she now belonged to. Her smile dissolved. "Ian’s in the bedroom if… If you’re looking for him."

Lip clenched his jaw at how frail and controlled Mandy had become. He wanted to murder Kenyatta but knew he didn’t have the stomach to do it.

"Yeah, I… brought some food…" Mandy showed Lip to the bedroom as if he hadn’t been there nearly every day since Ian had spiraled into depression. Walking in to see the redhead now was like going to some sort of alter, bringing gifts to show worship and pray to this broken, sallow effigy for a positive light to shine in all their lives, especially the effigy himself.

Lip walked around to the other side of the bed, kneeling to become level with his brother and best friend who now felt like his child more than ever. “Hey, buddy.” He was surprised to see the blanket not cocooning his being entirely and his face not covered. Ian looked at the wall. He was in a trance, like he was gazing at an oasis he wanted to be a part of that lived beneath the chipped paint of the wall. He looked as tho he didn’t know Lip was even there.

Lip’s breath was a little shaky but he powered through. “I brought Benny’s. All thighs ‘cause I know ya hate tits,” Lip sadly laughed to himself at their old joke. He waited but Ian never took his eyes away from the wall.

Lip leaned in and kissed his brother’s temple. He stood up and walked out of the room. Mandy stood in the living room, facing Lip but still keeping her eyes on the ground.

"Has he… has he talked to you at all?"

Mandy thought for a moment. “Ya know, I wasn’t gonna say anything because I… I didn’t want anyone to feel bad but… yeah, he talked to me. Once.”

Lip’s eyebrows jumped as he walked closer. Mandy stepped away. She wasn’t allowed to be to close to men. “Wh- what did he say?”

"I was in there just to make sure he was breathing and… he said… _‘So beautiful’_ … and he looked at me for a second."

Lip stood quiet. Now they were both looking down. “He’s right.” Mandy didn’t look up but tears nearly fell from her face. Kenyatta never tells her she’s beautiful. He never looks at her the way Lip always has.

The boy in front of her couldn’t help himself. He needed to see that perfect face staring back at him. He lifted her chin with his fingertips. She turned away, a black, eyeliner-stained tear falling down her cheek.

"Look at me," Lip whispered. "If you want to." The fact she had a choice made another black tear flow from her other eye as she finally let herself meet his glance. They’re breathing was heavy, it felt like they had hot stones soothing their chests, hearts pounding like synced, steady drums.

And that was all it took.

Mere half seconds passed before they were wrapped bare naked in Mandy’s eggplant sheets. Lip rocked slowly but with great passion inside his lost love, holding her precious body with such care, you could’ve sworn she was a porcelain doll.

Mandy wrapped herself around him like beautiful ivy, now crying tears of bliss and heartache as she’d never been made love to like this before. Lip kissed the bruises and cuts, old ones and new. Mandy was perfect and this time… he let himself fall in love with her.

When it was over, Mandy jumped out of bed. She grabbed Lip’s clothes from the floor. “You need to go!” She spoke quietly as if she was always being watched and listened to.

Lip got up from the bed. “Mandy-“

"Just," she paused, looking fearful, refusing to look at him now. "Leave." Lip knew it was only for her protection.

He got dressed and headed to the living room. “Look, try to get Ian to eat something?” Mandy nodded, looking at the floor again until he was gone. She ran straight to the shower to wash away his scent.

——-

"Fiona, see ya at work later," Charlie hollered as Fiona began walking away from the church where their NA meetings were held.

Fiona turned slightly. “See ya tonight,” she hollered back. She pulled out her phone and called Lip.

"Yo."

"He eat?"

"Nah, wouldn’t even look at me. You talk to Mickey about taking him to R.U.M.?"

Fiona sighed. “He wasn’t having it. Fucker thinks if he loves him hard enough Ian’ll just snap out of it. Look, I gotta take care of something before work. I’m going back to the house for a sec. I’ll leave money on top of the fridge for pizza.”

"Yeah alright. See you after work."

"See ya."

Fiona headed to catch the L after she stopped by the Gallagher house. Took her forever but then she finally stood in the apartment complex outside one of the doors. She hesitated but finally took a deep breath and knocked.

She curled in her lips when the door opened, revealing Fiona’s last resort: Monica.


	2. She Wanted To Feel Nothing. I Just Wanted The Room To Stop Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debbie gives in to peer pressure. Mandy is frightened by Lip's confession. Frank finds Ian in a familiar position.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt

She looked better than she had in a long time. Healthy weight, a glow to her skin. She was dressed simply in jeans and a button down with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were wide but she didn’t look too shocked. “Hey.”

Fiona hugged her arms, fidgeting, looking down at her feet. “Hi.”

"Somethin’ must be really wrong if you came to me…"

Fiona waited, fearful of her own words. “It’s Ian.”

Monica pressed her hand to her heart as tho she might faint. “Oh, don’t tell me someone found out and…” She couldn’t even saying the words that suggested Ian might’ve been a victim of a hate crime.

"No. It’s worse." Fiona looked up to meet her mother’s confused stare. "He’s got what you have."

Monica froze, closing her eyes momentarily. “Where is he?”

"Mickey’s."

"The kid from juvie?" Monica furrowed her brows in distaste. Fiona nodded. Monica’s sour face dissolved. "Is he manic or depressed?"

"Started manic, now he’s…" Fiona breathed through her nostrils, fighting back her sadness. "Low. And his boyfriend won’t take him into treatment."

"Take him there yourself," Monica said as tho that would be obvious. "Fuck that Milkovich kid."

"You want me and Lip to go up against a bunch of Ukrainian thugs?" Fiona scoffed. "Only one with those kinda balls is… well, you."

Monica tossed her brows in a ping of pride, shifting her weight and crossing her arms, leaning against the doorway.

"Will you help me?"

——-

Debbie was frustrated as she stood at her closet looking for something to wear to Holly’s party. She finally decided on a black mini skirt, peach top and black heels. She made her makeup extra slutty upon Holly’s request and headed out before anyone who gave a shit could see her. She got to Holly’s early to help set up all the booze and snacks.

"Here," Holly said, exhaling smoke from her lungs and handed the joint to Debbie.

"Um, no thanks," she replied, placing two stacks of red solo cups on the counter.

"A little bud’s not gonna kill you."

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Because," Holly smiled, rubbing shoulders with the Gallagher girl, "if we’re gonna host this party, I need us to be as chill as we can."

"Then why not just throw me in the freezer…" Debbie laughed at her own pun.

"Take one hit," Holly advised, putting the blunt close to Debbie’s lips. "If you don’t like it, don’t take anymore."

Debbie stared at the weed with crossed eyes. The smell reminded her of her brothers, especially Ian. Everything reminded her of Ian. She slumped her shoulders sadly, remembering everything that had happen in that moment. She wanted to feel good. Wanted to feel free and happy and alive. She wanted to feel nothing.

She leaned forward and inhaled the thick smoke deep into her chest. She held it in for seven seconds and blew it out through her puckered lips beaming in cherry gloss.

——-

"Hey!" Kev shouted when Monica walked through the door of the Alibi. He immediately made her an Irish car bomb and put it on the bar. "There ya go, Mrs. Gallagher."

"No thanks, Kev," Monica said and suddenly it seemed like the whole room was silent with all eyes on her. "Is Frank here?"

"Uh, yeah," Kev told her, still in shock she wasn’t drinking and also by her new Plain Jane look. "He’s in the pisser."

Monica waited for Frank to stumble out of the men’s room. “Frank!” She called out to him, charging toward him.

"Monica… what… what’r’you doin’ here?" Frank was piss drunk, slurring every word. He was too drunk to even sound surprised.

"Jesus, Frank. Look- we need to get you sobered up," Monica instructed.

"Pssh, why? Got this new liver, I’cn do whate’er I want…"

"No. We need to go help your son."

"… Which one?"

"Ian."

"Not my son, member? You- you fucked my brother!" Frank remembered, becoming angry. Monica gave him a quick slap to the cheek, knowing it would snap him out of it.

"Our son needs us!" She yelled so loud the whole bar stopped to stare. They all of a sudden were quite interested.

"We’re going to the Milkovichs right the fuck now!"

Too hammered to argue, Frank stumbled out of the bar with Monica.

——-

A stubbed cigarette shot for the pavement as Lip opened the door to the Waffle Cottage. He tapped the shoulder of a waitress. She turned. “Hey, is Mandy workin’ tonight?”

The waitress pointed to a table across the room. “Over there.”

Lip passed tables and diner guests to get to Mandy who was refilling a customer’s coffee. “Hey,” he whispered, coming up next to her.

"Sir, I’ll be with you in just a moment," Mandy replied with a plastic smile she didn’t direct towards Lip. "Anything else, boys?"

"Maybe that ass on a plate with a side of them sugar tits," the costumer replied with a sickly grin.

Mandy smiled simply and didn’t respond as she walked away. Lip followed as she went back to the counter. “I can’t stay long, but I just…” He watched as Mandy re-upped the coffee pots and waved over a bus boy to pick up some dirty plates. “The other day… I… I love you, Mandy.”

The girl froze, terrified for Lip’s life. She picked up another tip and stuffed it into her front apron pocket. “Don’t,” she advised shakily, fighting back the fear as she headed to another table.

——-

There was a knock at the door. And then another. And a third. The knocks turned into harsh bangs. Mickey finally made his way to the door and opened it. “The fuck?” He said toward Monica, not knowing who she was. But then he saw Frank leaning against the balcony wall. “Frank, what’re you doin’ here?”

"Where is he?" Monica said bluntly.

"Who?"

"You know goddamn well who." Monica pushed Mickey aside with both hands, barging her way into the living room.

"Are you Monica?" Mickey asked, coming closer.

"Yeah." Monica was hardly listening as she looked around for Ian.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"We’re taking him."

"Take-wh-takin’im where?!"

"Where he should’ve gone a long fucking time ago. Frank, get in here! I need you to help me get him outta bed." Monica hadn’t even seen her son yet but knew for sure he’d be in bed. She obviously had experience with this, being bipolar herself.

"No- hold the fuck up, he’s not goin’ anywhere!" Mickey yelled at her.

They suddenly heard a sound coming from down the hall. A heart-stopping thud in the bathroom. Frank looked up, eyes wide. He knew that sound. He was sobered up enough to be sharp and run to the bathroom. He pushed the door open.

And there he was. His boy. The one who, now more than ever, was the spitting image of his mother. Pools of blood under his wrists, shaking against the grimy bathroom wall.

Monica rushed in, instinctively going toward her child. “Frank! Get towels! Get something!” She cried out, gripping Ian’s wrists hard to stop the bleeding.

Mickey stood frozen in the doorway as he watched his lover dying right before his eyes. His head screamed for him to help. To rush over and put pressure on the redhead’s wounds, but his body wouldn’t let him. The only thing he could feel was the pain in his stomach and the loud beating of his heart.

Frank grabbed as many washcloths as he could find in the tiny bathroom, helping Monica tear and tie them around their child’s bleeding wrists. “Fuckhead! Call an ambulance!” Monica yelled to Mickey. The pimp snapped out of it and called as Monica cradled her son’s sobbing face with her blood soaked hands. “It’s okay! Mama’s here. Mama’s here, baby. Shh, shh, shh.” She tried to sound as calm as she could, but the fact remained, her third oldest was on the verge of dying.

Ian choked out cries too painful to hear. He finally made eye contact with his mother. “I tried,” he whimpered, tears rushing down his face.

"I know, baby." Monica hugged his neck gently, kissing Ian’s fiery hair as she stroked the back of his neck and rocked him slowly.

He looked up at Mickey, whispering, “I just wanted the room to stop spinning.”


	3. Since The Day I Met You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is rushed to the ER, Mandy breaks free.
> 
> TW: Suicide Attempt, Implied Pending Rape.

Monica went with Ian in the ambulance, mother and child covered in blood just like when he was born. Frank was in such shock, he ended up just wondering the neighborhood as streetlights began to light up the sidewalks in search for something strong.

Mickey called Lip and told him Ian was being rushed to the nearest ER but the pimp didn’t follow the ambulance in his car. He felt like a monster. How could he not see the pain and exhaustion in Ian? The fear and hopelessness? Mickey had been so blinded be his own fear of losing his long lost love, he couldn’t see the damage he’d allowed to progress.

Fiona and Lip rushed to the hospital, pushing and shoving passed nurses and medical equipment and frantically asking where their brother was. Monica walked up from where she was sitting when she noticed her children and stood next to her oldest.

"Miss, I’m sorry. Your brother severed an artery in his left wrist," the nurse explained from behind the counter. "He’s in surgery to fix it."

Stunned and her eyes brimmed with tears, Fiona turned to her mother seeing the blood stains spattered across her clothes. “What happened?” She said shakily.

"Me and Frank went to get him and we heard this noise and he was on the bathroom floor and and and…" Monica was still in shock herself. Fiona reached out and hugged her mother tight, crying on each other’s shoulders.

And so they waited. Hours going by, every minute feeling slower than the last. The table in the waiting room was littered with heaps of wrappers from the vending machine and coffee stained styrofoam cups. Fiona paced around the floor, retrying Debbie’s number for the ninth time. “Fuck! Where is she?!” She spat, breathing wolfishly.

"Sit down," Lip advised, waving her over. Fiona sat next to him, he rested a hand on her knee. "Where’s Mickey?" He looked over at Monica.

"I dunno. The ambulance took me with Ian. Not sure if he followed or not."

"Hope he didn’t for his sake. Gonna kill that fucker when I see him," Fiona muttered, disgusted. Lip didn’t react.

"Ya know, we weren’t exactly rushing to get him help either, Fi," the oldest Gallagher son said calmly. Fiona rolled her eyes, knowing her brother was right. "Mickey just didn’t want him to be locked up. None of us did."

Fiona sighed, her anger dissolving. “Yeah, look what fuckin’ good that did,” she scoffed.

——-

"Have you seen my drink?" Debbie slurred over the music and the other drunk teenagers and twenty year olds at Holly’s party.

"Uh, no…" Ben, an eighteen year old she’d been chatting up with the whole night, replied. He held up a different solo cup. "Here, have this one," he smiled sweetly, nodding towards the cup.

Debbie was too drunk to be hesitant about taking drinks from strangers. She grabbed the cup and guzzled half of it in one go.

Music blared, strobe lights flashed, booze flowed like water and the whole place was in a thick cloud of weed smoke. Hearts pounding and energy zipping through the room.

And suddenly, something was wrong. Debbie caressed her head, feeling dizzy. She figured it must’ve been the weed so she smiled through it, unaware she was being lead upstairs away from the party. Her vision was blurry, barely hearing whatever plastically sweet things Ben was telling her. She felt her back on Holly’s bed. And before she drifted to sleep, she felt the weight of someone on top of her.

——-

"Fiona and Lip Gallagher?" A doctor called from a chart as he entered the waiting room wearing scrubs.

Fiona, Lip and Monica all stood up. “Yes,” Fiona said, a look of exhaustion and worry on her face.

"He lost a lot of blood but we managed to repair the severed artery in his wrist and he’s currently being given two units of blood." They all nodded. "He’s sedated now, but you can see him if you like. Don’t be alarmed but he is strapped down to keep from hurting himself when he wakes up." Fiona had a confused look. "It’s just a precaution. Also, he’ll be sent to a nearby crisis center for observation and then they’ll decide if he needs further treatment. Good luck to you."

The doctor headed off and a different nurse showed them to Ian’s room. They all stood frozen at the sight. It was easy to see their brother in the dark, but now with all this light, they had to face the painful truth of how far Ian had gotten away from himself. He was thin and frail looking, his veins so visible through his moonlight skin. The restraints were further up on his arms to not agitate his bandaged wrists.

Fiona stepped closer as Monica pulled up a chair and sat next to her son, gently holding his hand. Lip just stayed in the doorway, a tear no one saw fall down his cheek. It was like Liam’s overdose all over again.

Fiona stroked Ian’s hair. “Hi, buddy,” she said quietly. She bent to kiss his cheek but burst into tears mid-act. She sobbed against her son’s face, still trying to kiss him.

Lip’s phone rang suddenly. Thank God, he needed a distraction. He looked at his phone and saw that it was Mandy’s number. Surprised but not unhappy, he answered. “Hey,” he said stepping out of Ian’s room.

"Hi," Mandy whispered. "Ken’s in the bathroom, I can’t talk long," she rushed. "I just… the other night at work… you have to understand. I wish things were different."

Lip breathed deeply. “Do you love me? Just answer yes or no,” He whispered desperately.

Mandy paused. “Since the day I met you,” she breathed through her tears. Lip closed his eyes, relieved but still terrified of the forbidden love.

"Look, I’m sorry, but I’m at the hospital. Ian hurt himself pretty bad and-"

"What?!" Mandy whispered loudly. She was staying at Kenyatta’s so she hadn’t known about Ian’s accident. "I gotta go," she said, hanging up when she heard footsteps coming toward the bedroom. Mandy shot off the bed and pulled her clothes on.

"The fuck you goin’?" Kenyatta asked but was ignored. He walked over and grabbed her arm in a spot that was already purple from his hand.

"I gotta go take care of something," she said bluntly and offered no other explanation. She yanked away her arm and left.

——-

"Kevin! Mickey!" Veronica called out after she hung up the phone.

"What, baby?" Kev answered. The bar was empty; slow night.

"Ian’s in the ER, we gotta go!"

"Woah, shit! Alright! Manny, lock up, will ya?" Kev was about to leave when he sees Mickey still sitting there. "Um, hello! Ya deaf? Your boyfriend’s in the hospital!"

Mickey’s eyes were dead. He took another drag from his cigarette. He didn’t respond which told Kev that Mickey already knew and couldn’t face Ian or his family. Kev left and Mickey downed his fifth shot of whiskey.

——-

Mickey stumbled into his house, more drunk than he’d ever been in his whole life. He walked crookedly to the bathroom and saw the blood still there. He could only stare for so long before the front door was barged through and his sister was heading straight for him. In a fit of pent up rage and hurt and anger, Mandy punched her brother square in the nose. “You motherfucker!” She yelled as Mickey fell to the floor, not putting up a fight as Mandy continued to punch him over and over until she got tired. “It’s all your fucking fault!”

She moved to her feet and kicked at Mickey’s ribs. He still wasn’t defending himself or arguing. Mandy wasn’t just beating her brother. She was beating her father, Ian’s parents, Kenyatta… even herself. She kicked and punched until her sobbing was too much to hold back and she collapsed. Putting up one last fight she crawled over and pounded on his chest, growing so weak she finally laid her forehead on Mickey’s chest as she weeped into his sweater.

Mickey only turned his head and spit a mouthful of blood to the floor.


	4. Nice Bruises, Rag Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kev tells Mickey what he needs to hear. Debbie feels a change in herself. Mandy visits Ian.
> 
> TW: Implied Rape

She woke up with a splitting headache, the room was still spinning. Her tights and her underwear were around her ankles. She winced at the light coming from the window, pulling her bottoms up and stumbling off the bed. She made her way to the bathroom down the hall, tripping over passed out party-goers as foggy visions came to her from the night before. She remembered Ben and the drink he gave her. And that’s all. She looked in the bathroom mirror at her twisted clothing, her makeup smudged and her hair all over the place. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what had happened to her. And she looked at herself like she wasn’t sweet little Debbie anymore. She now understood how one becomes an average product of the Southside, because she was becoming one.

——-

Stirring awake from the feel of the chilled, hardwood floor beneath her curled body, Mandy slowly lifted her head from her brother’s arm. They’d fallen asleep there but she realized that maybe it was just her who’d gotten the rest she desperately needed. She eyed Mickey who was staring blankly at the water stained ceiling. “C’mon, you should shower before we go see him,” Mandy said, bringing herself to her feet.

"Not going," Mickey mumbled quietly, blinking slowly.

Mandy felt the rage growing again. “You’re not gonna go make sure he’s okay?”

Mickey struggled to stand up, grimacing at his own headache. He walked toward the kitchen. “You’ll tell me if he isn’t…” He said coldly.

Mandy charged toward him again, pinning his back to the fridge. “You cannot fucking do this to him,” she yelled emphatically. “You’re the reason he didn’t get help sooner, you selfish fuckin’ prick. Least you could do is check to see if he’s still breathing-“

"Oh, and you’re the expert on relationships?!" Mickey snapped, jostling her sore arm. "Nice fuckin’ bruises, rag doll!" Mandy reared back and swung at his eye so hard he felt to the side and landed on the floor again.

They stared at each other, breaths deep and harsh nearly foaming at the mouth. “I knew you couldn’t change,” Mandy muttered before leaving him, in search of her best friend.

Mickey waited a moment until he felt the fear creep up on him. He crawled under the table and huddled against his knees, rocking back and forth. He used to do it as a child. Their mother would tell all the children to get into their hiding places (Mandy was locked in the closet) when Terry would come home more drunk and violent than usual. Mickey can still hear the sounds of beating and belt whipping and his mother choking on squeals of pain trying not to make any noise.

——-

Lip yawned loudly as he and Fiona trudged tiredly into the Gallagher house. Monica had work but she promised to come to the house afterward so they could ride up to the hospital together. No one had seen or was looking for Frank. Lip was carrying Liam having just picked him up from Sheila’s. “Coffee?” Fiona asked, taking off her coat and scarf.

"Fuckin’ gallon of it."

Fiona exhaled a weak laugh, making her way to the coffee pot. Lip set Liam in his pack-n-play and took of his jacket and coat. Suddenly his phone vibrated. A text from Amanda:

_**"Where have you been? We had plans last night…"** _

Lip deleted the text and put it out of his mind. He walked toward the kitchen and sat down at the table, resting his tired head on the table. Fiona yawned as she poured the coffee into two mugs. The front door opened as she was walking to the table.

Debbie hurried up the stairs but Fiona saw her and chased after her. “Debs!” The girl stopped on the steps and turned around, face blank and numb looking. “Wear the hell have you been all night?!”

Debbie shrugged. She still looked a mess. “Holly’s.”

Fiona sighed. “I called you.”

"Phone died."

"Ian’s in the hospital, Debs. He… hurt himself."

Debbie scoffed, laughing to herself, her eyes rolling lazily. “Bound to happen at some point…” And with that, she headed to her room and slammed the door.

——-

Kev stood at the bar with a long face as he served people who didn't care their drinks. Mickey came in and sat at his usual bar stool, breathing heavy, not saying a word. Kev silently poured him a beer a slid it to him on the counter top.

"Hey, Mick," Kermit said almost gently. Mickey just stared into his full glass.

Tommy, who was sitting one stool over, slammed a little cash on the bar. "Get him somethin' strong on me." He reached over and patted his back once, squeezing his shoulder. Whole gang already knew what'd happened to Ian, and Mickey just felt like a piece of shit failure.

Kev poured Mickey two shots of Jameson and sat them next to his beer. "You seen him yet?" Kev asked, picking up dirty glasses from the other end. Mickey didn't respond. Kev nodded to himself. It was time to make the speech, he thought. He walked toward Mickey slowly. "Ya know, I'm sure you been told your whole life that being a man means knockin' chicks up and beating the shit outta anyone who crosses you... it's not true." Mickey closed his eyes, keeping his head down. "It's about being there when the people you love need you the most and not tapping out when it gets tough."

Mickey looked up, tears in his eyes he just couldn't hide anymore. "I'm the fuckin' reason he's there-"

"Yeah, and now you're gonna be what makes him better... along with the pills," Kev interrupted angrily. "Man the fuck up, Mickey." Tommy and Kermit had nothing to add as they focused on their beers. Kev, the only father worth a damn in Mickey's youth life, had said it all.

Mandy had gotten in to see Ian with little problems. The nurse just had to call Fiona and get her approval and, feeling generous, Fiona told her that Mandy and Mickey could visit if he ever showed up.

Ian even half smiled when he saw Mandy, she jumped into bed with him and smothered him in kisses and tears. He laughed lightly, the first time in a month. She wouldn’t leave his side. They’d never done any kind of friendly snuggling before but it still felt natural and very comfortable. Ian was quiet, only answering with “mhms” or “nhms” and nods as she talked about the bitches at work and the sleazy costumers. Ian just listened. He loved hearing Mandy talk. He wished he could hug her back but he was still in restraints. She simply laid on him and nuzzled into his neck. She stroked his hair and lightly kissed his chest. They didn’t talk about Mickey or his lack of presence. Mandy moaned in agony when she realized she had to leave to make her shift. She kissed him on the lips and he kissed back. She hugged him and said she’d come back after work.

Ian was calm and sort of doped up on pain meds for his wrists. Also that blood they gave him really did him good. Turns out Ian had become anemic in the last month and a half or so and the added blood loss from the suicide attempt sure didn’t help.

Just when the redhead thought he might fall asleep again, he felt eyes on him. He turned toward the door and smiled half heartedly at the boy with the tattoos on his knuckles and skin like the moon. Mickey’s chin was quivering, his eyes watery and red. He sniffled at the sight of Ian’s bandaged wrists and his frail frame.

Ian lifted and opened his arms as much as he could with the restraints, signaling Mickey to come closer. The thug stepped toward, sniffling more as he came to Ian’s bed.

"Kiss me," Ian whispered desperately.

Like brother like sister, Mickey lunged, plastering himself onto his lover as he burst into a sobbing fit, kissing him hard, holding his skull tight. Ian weakly kissed back. He was still low and depressed. Tears fell from his own eyes, terrified of himself.

Mickey stayed for hours and Ian didn’t mind at all. Mickey rested with him and petted him and they breathed together steadily.

"So… what now?" Mickey asked, not lifting his head from Ian’s chest.

Ian licked his lips and swallowed hard. “They’re gonna send me to a place for suicide watch for like 5 days while they run some tests to see if I’m… ya know.” Ian still wasn’t coming to terms with the idea of being like his mother. “If I am… I’ll get sent to a different place for a while.”

"How long?" Mickey was still calm, now accepting that Ian needed help that he couldn’t give him.

Ian kissed Mickey’s hair. “Till I’m better.”


	5. An Ounce Of Hope Surrounded In Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is taken to a treatment center. Lip and Fiona notice changes in Debbie. Bonnie tries to reconnect with Carl. Charlie gives Fiona some reassurance.

Mickey followed behind in his car as a taxi drove Ian to the hospital where his treatment was going to be held. They arrived in front of the large building and Mickey told the cab driver he’d help carry Ian’s bags himself, not allowing Ian to help him. They walked into the main entrance and were greeted by a counselor who’d been notified of Ian’s arrival.

"Ian?" She asked, smiling toward the redhead. It was obvious who needed to be there: the boy with the dark, lifeless eyes and such fragile posture. "I’m Barb," she said cheerfully yet considerate.

Ian nodded, looking around aimlessly. Mickey set down the heavy bags and reached for his hand but was rejected. He tried not to take it personally.

"And you’re…?" Barb asked curiously.

"Mick."

"Oh, are you-"

"Boyfriend," Mickey blurted. Ian smiled just a little at the sound. It made him feel an ounce better knowing that Mickey still wanted him after he became ill.

"Oh, great," Barb replied happily, reaching to shake the pimp’s hand. Mickey politely indulged and asked where he should take Ian’s things. Barb then called out a man from the back area and had him take Ian’s stuff to the room he’d be staying in. She then told the boys it was time to say goodbye for now and that Mickey could come back in a few days after Ian had acclimated.

Unashamed as well as madly in love with Ian but heartbroken with the situation, Mickey pulled his lover close and hugged him tight. They’d never really hugged before but Mickey made damn sure this one would count. They were both crying and Ian finally had to push Mick away and sniffle, “go.”

——-

Surrounded in smoke and the sounds of BMSR in her room, the youngest Gallagher woman lay with her back on the floor. Joint poking out her mouth like a welcomed flower, eyes heavy, she enveloped herself in a womb of sensation, lazily smiling as the herb took affect and everything started to feel slow. Time didn’t exist or at least wasn’t linear. No one existed- the villains, the heroes, the children, the parents, she thought. She felt nothing and everything, she felt weightless and heavy. She felt perfect.

There was a knock at her door, partially killing the mood. “Debbie,” Fiona asked from the hall. “Dinner…”

Debbie laughed hysterically at how hungry she was. Fiona sighed at the sound of hazy laughter and went back down to the kitchen. “The hell’s going on with these kids?!” She whispered loudly, pulling her hair. Lip snorted around the bottle neck of his beer.

"What else are we supposed to expect? They’re from the Southside," Lip smirked getting Liam fixed into his highchair. Fiona began setting the table.

"Just thought they were better than the freaks of this neighborhood. Debbie’s been stoned all week since she went to Holly’s party and Carl’s doing god knows what with Sammi and Frank over at Sheila’s…"

"What? You weren’t getting stoned trying to forget about your shitty life at her age?"

"Yeah! And look where I ended up!" Fiona scoffed as she brought over the dish of lasagna.

Lip laughed to himself. “She’ll be fine. Just needs to cut loose for a bit. She’ll have a wild summer and snap out of it.”

They stopped when they heard footsteps come down the stairs. Debbie smiled at her brother and plopped down into a seat at the table. She helped herself to a heap of lasagna and began stuffing her face like an animal. “Shit, Fi, this is good,” she mumbled through of mouthful of pasta.

"It’s Costco…"

"Kirkland makes a badass lasagna. Ian would love this. Where the hell is that guy anyway?" Fiona and Lip stopped. "Oh right, nut house. Forgot," she laughed.

Carl came in a minute later, heading to the fridge for a beer. “Yo, grab two!” Debbie hollered. He did so but didn’t respond.

"Woah, guys," Fiona said, eyes wide. "Lip, you seein’ this?" Lip shrugged, sipping his own beer. "What- are we turning into, the Milkovichs?" Fiona thought that was worse than some flesh eating virus attacking the whole house.

Carl handed his sister her bottle and took his own back up to the boys’ room. Lip reached over as Debbie had some pasta sauce on her cheek and went to wipe it off with his thumb when-

"Don’t fucking touch me," Debbie snapped and grabbed his wrist tight, slamming it to the table. She recovered a half second later, laughing it off and let go, wiping her own cheek. Fiona and Lip looked at each other and Fiona could tell her brother finally agreed that something was wrong.

——-

"Hey, Carl," Bonnie said in the hall the next day at school. Carl winced at the sound, hungover. He’d snuck out after everyone fell asleep and got hammered with Lil Hank at his house.

"Hi." Carl was monotone, grabbing a book from his locker. Well, really just moving it so he could grab his flask underneath and have a quick swig.

Bonnie frowned at his back. “So… you wanna hand out after school?” She tried to sound enthusiastic.

"Why? Need someone to help you steal candy and chocolate milk for your flock?" Carl shut his locker and moved to walk passed Bonnie but she had him blocked.

"No… I… I miss you," she assured, touching Carl’s arm. He shrugged her off and moved passed.

"I’m busy."

——-

His bed felt like a whole new empty without Ian. The perfect scent was still there but without the tender flesh and Adonis-shaped bones to lay with his own. His body wasn’t there for him to feel the weight of on top of his own as the redhead would lay half on half off of him as they slept, while the pimp cradled the younger boy’s face in the crook of his neck stroking his hair as he practically held him.

Mickey dragged himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair back with his fingers. He sat still, thinking maybe if he waited long enough he’s feel Ian sit up behind him and wrap his arms around his torso. He never felt it tho.

Svetlana stopped into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, making her way to the dresser. “Did Orange Boy evaporate? Can’t imagine him leaving the bed unless he turned to dust.” She said over her shoulder, grabbing a long sweater and a pair of leggings. Mickey forgot that Svetlana had been gone with Nika that week and still didn’t know about Ian’s suicide attempt. He then realized it wasn’t her business so he didn’t respond. He simply got to his feet and left the room.

——-

The distress of her personal life was apparent on Fiona’s tired face as she refilled the coffee pots at the diner. She almost didn’t notice Charlie leaning against the opposite counter with his arms crossed as he stared at her with curiously as well as wisdom.

"How’s your brother?" He asked. Charlie wasn’t one for having his employees keep their troubles to themselves. He thought it was bullshit for everyone to keep it bottled up. He couldn’t help but ask; it was the Big Book koolaid in his system.

Fiona sniffled. “Uh, they sent him to a behavioral health center yesterday.” She didn’t turn to look at her boss.

Charlie nodded to himself. “Ya know… I’m bipolar too.”

Fiona turned around, a little shocked. “Really?”

Charlie nodded again. “He’ll be fine if he really wants to be better.”

"Yeah, the doctor said he could still have crashes and stuff even after they get him on meds…" She sounded discouraged.

"Oh that just means they need to adjust his meds," he assured. "Those brain pills are a total trial and error system until you find what works and then you just stay on that." Fiona almost smiled. That did make her feel better. "Might take two or three adjustments before he’s got the right cocktail but he’ll get there. Plus, he’s young and they caught it early. Trust me, Ian’s gonna be alright."

Fiona paused, laughing to herself. “Do you think… maybe, um…”

"What?" Charlie laughed, and Fiona nearly blushed at his sweet smile.

"I dunno, would you maybe wanna talk to him sometime? Give him some idea of what’s gonna happen?" She shook her head, feeling silly.

"Sure," Charlie said genuinely. "I’ll be his nutcase mentor."

They both laughed. Fiona was ready to get back to work. He began to walk away, putting a comforting hand to her shoulder. “It gets better, Fiona. For all of you. Even if you never make it outta this shithole neighborhood or make anything above minimum wage again… it’s get better… If you want it.”

And suddenly, Fiona felt a tear in her eye and, for once, it wasn’t of pain or dejection.

But of an ounce of hope.


	6. Guess That Takes Care Of Your Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey, Fiona, and Carl all find out surprising news with mixed reactions.

"Where the hell have you been?" Amanda asked upon tugging at Lip’s jacket when she caught a glance of him in the hall.

Lip turned around, sucking in his lips. “Been busy. Sorry.”

"I’ve been texting you all week, Lip."

"Somethin’ came up," Lip replied, looking almost bored.

"Like what? We had plans!" Amanda was sounding slightly hysterical.

"Ian tried to kill himself."

And again, Amanda found herself standing alone as Lip walked away, feeling terrible.

——-

"Here, have some vodka," Little Hank encouraged as he and Carl leaned back on the columns of his porch after school. The weather was a little warmer so they only had on light jackets.

Carl took the bottle and a large swig from it, shutting his eyes at the burn of the alcohol pouring down his throat. “Stupid bitch wants to hang out all the sudden,” he muttered handing the bottle back.

"Heard she’s got a new boyfriend." Little Hank was never known for saying words of consolidation.

"Who?" Carl caught himself letting on his concern. "Wait. I don’t give a shit."

"Tommy Baringer," Hank answered as he took another swig. Carl’s heart sank undeniably. He knew he was still in love with Bonnie, or at least he felt like that’s what he felt for her. "Pretty sure you dodged a bullet with her, man," Hank added.

Carl closed his eyes, laying his head against the column. “So did she.”

——-

He could hear the two month old whaling in his bassinet as he walked up the creaking stairs of his front porch. He wanted to turn around and leave but that wouldn’t make things better. He slowly opened his front door and stepped into his living room as Svetlana was rushing in to pick up their son, nuzzling him into her bosom and kissing his soft fuzzy head.

"I need money. He needs more diapers and rash creme," she stated clearly, no emotion in her voice as Yevgeny’s comfort in her arms was the only thing that mattered.

Mickey pulled out a wad of cash and handed her a twenty dollar bill. He headed to the kitchen for a beer where he saw Nika lounging in her seat at the kitchen table having a cigarette.

"That my shirt?" Mickey asked, staring at his t-shirt billowing over Nika’s scrawny frame.

"She say I could wear," Nika answers blankly, staring into her coffee.

"Take it off," Mickey demanded as a pressure rose in his chest; a pressure that’s been bubbling for weeks. He couldn’t take this anymore. This house. These women. This child. It was all too much for the boy to handle and he was suddenly feeling the pressure pushing him further into the ground wear the dirt was sure to suffocate him.

"Excuse me," Nika scoffed, eying her employer she clearly had no respect for. Suddenly she was startled as she was yanked from her seat and Mickey was harshly pulling the shirt off of her, revealing she was only wearing a thong underneath.

Svetlana wouldn’t give in to his anger as she tended to her baby. “Where you going?” She asked casually as she saw her husband charging for the front door.

Mickey ripped the door open and huffed, “Church.”

——-

7:00AM - Wake up.

8:30AM -Morning meds & breakfast.

9:00AM - 9 o’clock group (optional)

10:00AM to 11:00AM - Free time.

11:00AM - 11 o’clock group (optional)

12:00PM - Noon meds and Lunch.

1:00PM to 5:00PM - Free time with individual therapy/visiting hours. (Counselors every day, psychiatrist on Tuesdays)

5:00PM to 6:30PM - Group activity. (Check graph below for day rotation schedule)

6:30PM - Dinner.

7:30PM - Group therapy. (Dr. Kessler M/W/F, Dr. Ocean T/TH/F)

8:30PM to 10:00PM - Free time/nighttime meds.

10:00PM - Lights out.

-No smoking indoors.  
-No entering other people’s rooms.   
-No showers without approval.  
-No cellphones. Use house phone to make calls. Keep calls to a maximum of ten minutes.  
-Night checks every half hour.   
-No drugs, alcohol or weapons.  
-All bags and packages checked on arrival.  
-Drug/Alcohol testing weekly.

——-

Mickey found himself searching for the pastor’s office in the local rundown church a few blocks away from the VFW. He was the same man who’d married he and Svetlana. He was an old drinking buddy of Terry’s who’d often pause his sermons to take a swig of Southern Comfort behind his pulpit, confident that no one in the congregation was the wiser; this wasn’t the case however.

The pimp eventually found the door with a crooked ‘PASTOR JIM’ sign crudely thrown up. He knocked hurriedly, pacing in place.

"Come in!" Jim hollered. Mickey opened the door to see the pastor leaning back in his chair as a woman’s head bobbed up and down onto his groin. Jim turned to Mickey nonchalantly. "Oh hey, Mick, what can I do ya for?"

Just as Mickey was about to respond the pastor suddenly took a few choked breaths, grunting stuttered sounds as he arched his back, making the woman gag around his semen spurting member. She pulled away and grabbed a napkin from the Pastor’s lunch to spit his load into and left it on his desk.

Mickey’s eyes widened to see it was Natalya that’d been sucking his dick. “Yo… why aren’t you at the shop?” He asked his employee.

"He call, say he pay extra if I come to him." Natalya rose from her knelt position and grabbed her purse.

"Bet you weren’t even gonna tell me…" Mickey rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the cash. She handed over the bills. "You’ll get your cut later. Go back to work."

Natalya left quietly and Mickey took a seat across from Pastor Jim at his desk. “She’s my favorite,” Jim confessed as he redid his pants around his waist. He immediately reached into a drawer for his bottle of whiskey and had a few sips. He held the bottle toward the young man, offering him some to which Mickey shook his head ‘no.’ “So… what’s up?”

"Uh, well… ya know how you did the ceremony at my wedding?" Mickey asked nervously. He hated mentioning the wedding.

Pastor Jim furrowed his brows as he was pulling the bottle from his lips. He wiped his mouth and looked up in thought. “Did I?”

Mickey sighed. “Yeah. Look, I was wonderin’… what would I have to do to get… unmarried?” Mickey felt awkward and almost embarrassed.

"Hmm. Well, the bible teaches us to love and work through our issues so that divorce will never be carried out." Jim tossed his eyes as though _he_ didn’t even believe what he was saying.

"It’s not workin’ out, Pastor." Mickey eyed him seriously, his desperation apparent.

"Ah, that’s right. I heard about your… confession." Mickey was expecting a lecture on his eternal damnation. "Good for you son. Takes some serious balls to tell that to a guy like Terry. Heard you took a wicked beatin’ for it too."

Mickey reared back slightly, surprised.

"Well lemme just look up your file," Pastor Jim said as he moved the mouse of his ancient computer. He lazily put on his reading glasses and a few clicks and key types later he stared at the screen slightly confused. "It’s M-I-L-K-O-V-I-C-H, right?"

Mickey’s brows furrowed. “Yes.”

"Alright, well lemme check _her_ last name to see if it's under that. What was her last name before?"

Mickey had to think. “Uh, Babikov.” He spelt it out and the Pastor came up blank again on his screen.

"Hmm," the pastor thought. "Oh, right! Last year! Ah, shit. Man, I was so deep in the bottle that day, I don’t think I ever took your marriage license to be filed."

"So… what’re you sayin’?" Mickey looked really confused and nervous.

"Well unless the license is notarized and filed, it isn’t legitimate to the state," Pastor Jim scratched his head and made sort of an ‘oops’ face.

Mickey still didn’t quite understand.

"Basically, son, according to the state… You and Svetlana Babikov are not and have never been married."

Mickey’s heart stop. Was he angry? Was he happy? He wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter.

"Well," the pastor slapped the desk with both hands and stood up. "Guess that takes care o’your problem, son. If you’ll excuse me… The Windy Titty is havin’ an early happy hour and I wanna beat the rush." Pastor. Jim grabbed his bible from his shelf and opened it to reveal a cut out filled with one and five dollar bills. He grabbed them all and turned to leave. "Good luck, son."

——-

Smoke rose above her as she paced the living room alone. The kids were at school, Lip was out with Liam, Ian in the ward. She had to leave in ten minutes to make her meeting before work when her phone rang loudly in her pocket.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Hi. Fiona Gallagher?" A sweet female voice replied.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Fiona. This is Barb. I’m calling about Ian Gallagher."

"Shit, right. Look, I’m so sorry. I know we need to figure out a way to pay for his treatment but-"

"Oh, no dear. Treatment’s already been paid for. We were actually calling to see if you could send more clothes and maybe a roll of quarters for the vending machines and laundry machines? We see him eying some of the snacks in the machine and we want to encourage him to enjoy them and indulge, ya know?"

Fiona was still thinking about her saying that treatment was paid for. “Um… sure. Wait, so… you said he’s already paid for?”

"Mhm," Barb said sweetly. "The check came in yesterday actually."

"Um, who sent it?" Fiona was so puzzled, she was pacing frantically.

"I’m sorry, ma’am, we can’t disclose that information since you aren’t Ian’s guardian anymore now that he’s eighteen."

"Right. Okay, well… thanks. And yeah, I’ll get him that stuff he needs. When can I visit tomorrow?"

"Well he’s scheduled for solo therapy tomorrow from 2:00 to 2:30 so I’d say any time between 2:30 and 5:00 would be fine." Fiona could hear the woman smiling and it made her happy that Ian was in the care of at least seemingly nice folk.

"Okay. I’ll be there. Thanks."

"Bye, Miss Gallagher."

"Bye."


	7. A Slap To The Face And A Thud To The Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl makes a snap decision after witnessing a violent act. Lip does something which makes him feel cathartic. A familiar face reappears. Debbie finds a possible new suitor. Mickey learns more shocking news.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: rape, abuse, murder.

Her dirty blonde locks always knew how to get his attention. Carl slammed his locker shut at the sight of Tommy Baringer’s arm wrapped around Bonnie’s waist on the other end of the hall. She had an almost reluctant head resting on his shoulder; she kept quiet while Tommy babbled on with his friends.

Bonnie looked a little skinnier. Maybe she’d just been having a hard time hunting for food so she’d give whatever she had to her siblings. Carl still lays awake at night, wondering if she has enough blankets in the van. He often thinks about stealing candy, chocolate milk, blankets and pajamas and finding their house parked somewhere to give to them. Maybe some lame, cheap toys for the young ones. He still has the bracelet he got for her. He wishes he could hear it jingling on her fragile yet so strong wrists as they held hands.

Bonnie’s eyes suddenly darted to make simple eye contact with the Gallagher boy. She smiles lightly as tho she doesn’t want Tommy to see. The bell suddenly rings and she’s pulled close to take Tommy’s slimy tongue forced down her throat. Carl’s eyes grow heavy and sad and he looks away. He decides to skip Spanish and hang out in the stairwell with the janitor, Ricky. The guy’s got good weed and he tells cool stories and it’s not like he’s some perv out to fuck Carl or anyone else.

Carl checks his book bag for his vodka bottle he stole that morning from the Kash & Grab. It’s so much easier now that Mickey’s not patrolling the place like some rent-a-cop. The bottle’s there, the cool alcohol swishing half full and he suddenly feels rushed to make it to the stairwell for that first taste.

——-

Fiona checked the time on her phone to make sure she wasn’t too early, not that she’d mind waiting for Ian to finish his therapy. Upon walking through the automatic doors and waiting at the desk for the receptionist to come back, she realized she’d never really checked the place out. The walls had nice, fairly classy paintings of abtract flowers and whatnot. The place looked really clean actually and it smelled nice. Ian deserves a nice place to get better, she thought.

She pulled off her beanie as a young woman came in and headed to her command center. “Hi, so sorry for the wait,” she said apologetically. “Are you hear for visiting hours?”

"Yes," Fiona replied, lifting the heavy napsack of her brother’s clothes over her shoulder. "Ian Gallagher?"

"Alright. I believe he just got out of therapy so all I need you to do," she pulled out a piece of paper on a clipboard and set it in front of Fiona, "is sign here and write the date." Fiona did so. "Alright and I just need you to wear this." She handed Fiona a sticker with the ‘VISITOR’ printed large on it. Fiona smoothed the sticker over her left breast.

Barb met her there and led Fiona through a door to another hall and through a second door. “Okay, Jon here is going to check the bag you’ve brought for contraband.” Fiona handed the bag to the guy in the tiny office at the front of the day room.

"Smokes are okay, right?" Fiona asked.

"Oh, of course. They just have to take it outside."

Jon cleared the bag and handed it back to Fiona to give to her brother. Barb took her through the day room. “He said he’s so happy to see you,” Barb said assuringly. Fiona suddenly stopped her before they went any further.

"Is he… better at all? I mean. Is he…" Fiona wasn’t sure how to ask if Ian was still as fucked up as he had been.

"Oh he’s actually moving very steadily. Those anti-anxiety meds are what work until the actual antidepressants kick in." Fiona smiled a little to herself as Barb looked around. "Hey, has anyone seen Ian?" Barb called through the room.

"He’s outside," a random patient answered. Barb and Fiona headed through the French doors outside to a large backyard with plenty of shady trees and lush grass. However, you can still see a tall fence around the parameter, reminding you of what this place is. They saw a young man sitting on a short brick wall, his back against a stair-column across the way. His fiery locks swaying slightly in the breeze. It’s a nice day, one of the first in months. The sun out just enough to bring a hint of warm that blends nicely with the cool, light wind.

Fiona accidentally forgot about Barb and ran over to her brother, shrieking gleefully, getting his attention. Ian turned and grinned wide, standing up to meet his sister in the warmest hug they’d shared in a long time. Barb smiled and left them to their visit.

"Oh my god, kid! You already look so much better!" Fiona hoped her excitement wasn’t making Ian anxious but she couldn’t help herself.

Ian laughed lightly and tossed his brows. “Ah, thanks. You look like shit, sis. How hard they workin’ you at that diner?” He received a light punch in the arm and chuckled at her.

They talked about everything. The therapy, the other patients, the not so great food. They talked about Mickey and Ian said they shouldn’t blame him for trying to make him better on his own. And Fiona brought up the fact that the Gallaghers were just as afraid and didn’t try to get him help either.

"Oh, right!" Fiona said as she reached for the napsack. "I forgot! I have stuff for you." She handed the bag to the boy.

"Oh, thanks!" Ian said appreciatively, rifling through clothes and such; his favorite body wash and shampoo, the deodorant she knows he prefers to wear. He came to six rolls of quarters at the bottom of the bag. He also found a whole box of Star Crunch treats, his favorite. "Mmm, I love these," he said, immediately opening the box like a child on Christmas. He pulled out a treat for each them. He tore into his snack with his teeth and took a big bite. Fiona’s eyes filled with tears as she saw her child eat, something she hadn’t seen in almost a month.

——-

"Here, put this on," Nika advised, tossing a tube dress at Svetlana as they went out. Mickey walked into the bedroom to see Nika with what appeared to be Nair lathered on her legs, armpits and crotch area. Svetlana was slipping the dressing on over her nylon covered legs.

"The fuck ya’ll goin’?" The pimp asked, standing in the doorway.

"Nightclub. Ladies get free drink tonight-"

"Shit! We forgot to call and ask if Natasha’s cousin can babysit!" Svetlana yelped, reaching for her phone.

"I got it," Mickey insisted, folding his arms.

Both the girls began to snicker. “You? How can baby watch baby?”

"Whatever… good luck finding a sitter, cunts." Mickey turned to leave but Svetlana stopped him.

"Wait. I sorry." She rested her hands on his shoulders. "I make joke." Mickey turned around.

"I’ll watch him."

"We be back by morning, yeah?"

"Whatever." Before Mickey left he turned to Nika. "Yo, how come you don’t get her to use that shit?" He nodded toward the nair on her crotch.

"Why would I? Is not my hair." Mickey looked confused. Nika scowled at him. "No one should dictate what anyone do with hair. My Lana likes to have bush, I love her to have bush too. Her bush is beautiful."

"Whatever," Mickey repeated as he again turned to leave.

"No wonder crazy boyfriend leave," Nika laughed, neither she nor Svetlana still knowing about the suicide attempt or the treatment center. Mickey felt both hand curling painfully into fists but he knew he’d have to keep cool in order for his plan to work.

The girls finished getting ready and said their goodbyes to Yevgeny before leaving. Mickey paced around, waiting. He finally looked out the window to make sure they were out of sight. When he saw the coast was clear, he got the baby into warmer clothes with his coat and a little hat and they left. Mickey began walking in the opposite direction of the girls, carrying Yev in his arms.

——-

Harsh Realm by Widowspeak hummed through her earbuds on repeat the next day as Debbie walked through the park she used to play in as a child not that long ago. She was already baked, strolling liquidly through the mulch, lazily drawing swirls with the tips of her black leather boots. She balanced herself, walking on the plastic edge of the mulch pit where broke down playground equipment lay, holding her arms out like she was on a tight rope.

She eventually found herself rocking back and forth in the seat of a rusted swing set. She got a text from Devin saying he’d be there in about five minutes. He was Holly’s weed dealer and now Debbie guessed he was her’s too.

Devin showed up and sat in the swing next to Debbie’s. “What’s up?” He asked, fried from too much weed. His eyes were red as a hooker’s mouth after work.

"Not much. Got it?" Debbie wasn’t quite a fan of Devin socially, or maybe she was just in denial about seeing what her future could be.

"Mhm." Devin pulled out a small baggie of pot and handed it to the girl. She opened it up and smelled it. Her eyes rolled back at the scent of the sweet, sticky bud.

She blushed at the loose weed. “Umm, I dunno how to like… roll a joint.”

Devin laughed lazily, smiling to the sky. “Oh, man. You’re a newcomer to the MaryJane, huh?” Debbie was smiling, red as the guy’s eyes.

"Only joints I’ve had we’re rolled by someone else," she laughed.

"Well… I’m havin’ a party tonight. Lotsa chill folk. Come by. We’ll teach’ya a thing’er two, hmm?" He’d eyed a little, but he wasn’t intense or off putting.

Debbie laughed again. “Where?”

"I’ll pick ya up. Where ya live?" Debbie gave him her address and they agreed to meet at eight at her place. He pulled a small bowl pipe and handed it to her. "Till ya learn how to roll, use this bowl." He laughed at his own rhyme. "Just pack a lil bud in here, hold down on the carb with your thumb to build up the smoke while you suck in, then let go and inhale." She thanked him and they shared a quick, courtesy bowl and parted ways till that night.

——-

"Wip! Wip! Pudding, Wip!" Liam hollered from the couch as Lip walked in with a chocolate pudding cup and a toddler spoon.

"Say, ‘please,’" Lip insisted, holding back the boy’s treat.

"Pweese! Pweese!" The child chirped anxiously, clapping his little hands loud. Lip laughed and handed him the pudding just as he heard a knock at the door.

"Buddy, watch your cartoons," Lip said as he headed to the door. He looked at his curiously as he hadn’t been expecting company. His curious face turn to almost an annoyed frown at Amanda’s presence.

"Okay, look. I’m sorry about your brother. That sucks and I feel for him but you acted like I should’ve known already when you never even told me!"

Lip shrugged, unfazed. He walked further into the living room and Amanda followed.

"You should’ve fucking told me, Lip!"

"Why, so you could put it on my schedule wall?"

"Hey, ya know what, I spent hours on that thing to help you."

"I don’t need your help!" Lip screamed, causing Liam to turn and watch them.

"Really? Well all that money my dad gave you seemed to help you and your broke ass family out just a little." Amanda froze, knowing she’d crossed a line.

Lip scoffed, pulling the phone she’d given him out and tossed it to her feet. He also kicked off of the nice shoes she’d bought and grabbed the jacket she gave him and tossed it into her arms. “Take your fancy ass stuff and get out.”

"Lip-"

"I have enough shit to deal with! Ian’s in a mental health center, Debbie’s high all the time, Carl’s turning into a drunk and I haven’t slept in weeks because I’m too busy getting up every fucking hour when Liam wets the bed or has a nightmare or he just wants to talk fucking jibberish at me!" Lip’s voice had escalated and he looked ferocious like he might eat her and all she wanted to do was hold him. "I don’t need some snotty rich bitch down my throat and up my ass about stupid shit that isn’t gonna fucking matter in even the near future! Take your schedule and your money and your lousy blowjobs and shove ‘me up your ass!"

Lip stood over her, breathing heavy as Amanda’s mouth was cupped into her hand as she stood horrified. She dropped the jacket and ran out of the Gallagher house.

Lip still looked like a hungry wolf until Liam began to make silly noises with his mouth and he suddenly snapped back into reality. He sat next to his brother and dissolved. He realized tho, as he reflected, that he didn’t quite feel regret for breaking it off with Amanda, tho how he handled it could’ve been better.

What he thought of most is that now he could focus on what he really longed for: Mandy Milkovich.

——-

Mickey took a final drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out onto the pavement of the entrance of where Ian was staying. He opened one of the double doors and walked to the receptionist at her desk.

"Yo."

"Hello, Mr. Milkovich," she replied sweetly, going to her drawer for a visitors’ sticker. "Here to see Ian?"

"Mhm." He took the sticker from her and randomly stuck it to the side of his pants leg.

"Okay, just sign in here and I’ll buzz you in." She tapped her finger onto the clipboard sign in sheet. She was a young, quite thick woman with heavy makeup and longer, curly hair. When Mickey thought about it, he figured that back when he was still appearing as a straight man, he would’ve gone after her.

The receptionist pressed the buzzer as Mickey stood at the door into the back room and opened it. He headed in and went to the nurses’ station to see if they knew where Ian was.

"Ah, yes. He’s in the TV area." The stocky, pimples young man pointed him to the television area further into the day room.

Knowing that Ian wasn’t aware that his boyfriend was there, he crept quietly behind where the redhead was sitting on the sofa, watching Duck Dynasty. He suddenly curled his fingers over Ian’s eyes and bent down to his ear.

"Hey, sexy," he whispered, taking his hands away as Ian turned around with the biggest grin. Mickey had seen from the younger man in a long time. It felt like years since he’d seen Ian this content. He’d visited every other day for the last two weeks and only now did he see major improvement.

"Hey!" Ian shot up and moved around the couch to leap into a strong hug with his boyfriend. The held on to each other tight as tho no one was in the room. Mickey pulled back and kissed the redhead’s lips, feeling Ian kiss him back.

They stepped back and looked at each other admiringly; Ian held Mickey’s hand and led them outside to be alone.

The smoked cigarettes on the bench under thick, cooling shade; Ian’s back rested against the arm of the bench and his legs were crossed over Mickey’s lap. The pimp curled a hand over one of Ian’s ankle, rubbing a thumb over the redhead’s leg hairs.

"So, uh, how’s George?" Mickey asked with a devilish smirk as he exhaled the smoke. George was another patient here only he had a very different, much more severe condition than Ian. He’d often talk to himself about plans to travel back in time to kill Hitler or invent the condom. He’d get pretty violent with with the male nurses and was often sedated against his own will.

Ian laughed, biting his nails. “George is havin’ a good day actually,” he nodded, taking another drag. “He was studying the rubbers he keeps in his pocket all morning, writing out all the ingredients and stuff for when he goes back in time to invent ‘em.”

——-

"No! Stop, c’mon!" Carl heard from behind the bathroom door at the liquor store. It was a girl’s voice. He ignored it and carried on filling his pockets with candy for the van kids. "Please! It hurts!" The girl’s voice cried out again. Carl turned toward the door when he heard what sounded like a slap to the face and a thud to floor.

"Shut the fuck up!" A guy’s voice boomed from behind the door.

"Tommy, please!" She sobbed.

Something clicked inside Carl, causing him to actually flinch as he ran to the door. He pushed through and saw Bonnie, pinned to the grimy bathroom floor on her stomach. Skinny jeans and underwear around her ankles, Tommy didn’t even notice Carl as he continued to force himself into Bonnie, his hand gripping her hair tight and smashing her head down to the floor.

There would be no denying that Carl didn’t at least care for her as he pounced like a lion onto Tommy’s back, his wallet chain around the guy’s neck pulled tighter and tighter with every gasp for hot air. Bonnie shuffled back against the wall as Tommy fell back onto Carl, weakening. The chain ached his fingers but Carl refused to release his grip until Tommy was gone.

Tommy’s hands stopped clawing at his neck and his arms finally fell to his sides as he took one last, struggling breath. Carl pushed him forward to fall face first to the floor as he stood up, breathing heavy with his eyes closed. His breathing turn to panting as the boy began to panic, realizing he’d just committed murder.

"Oh, fuck… Oh fuck! Oh, fuck, what the fuck did I do?!" Carl began sobbing. Bonnie got to her feet and rushed over to Carl.

"Hey," she whispered, cupping Carl’s face into her hands. "Carl, look at me."

Carl was afraid to open his eyes but he did anyway. He looked at Bonnie’s busted lip and the mascara running down her swollen eyes. He held onto her as he began to cry. He couldn’t speak.

"Carl. Listen." She lifted his head from her shoulder, looking at him seriously. "We gotta get outta here, okay?" She picked up and zipped her pants and led him out the bathroom door.

——-

The party at Devon’s wasn’t like Holly’s party. It was much more calm and cozy. Stoners littered about the house in groups of four or five, chatting about whatever with bongs and blunts being passed around. Devon walked Debbie into the house, introducing her to his crowd.

"Sit, Miss Debra," Devon insisted, taking a seat on his ratty old sofa. Debbie sat next to him, facing a coffee table covered in weed, grinders and papers. Showing her how to roll a joint only took a few minutes and afterword Debbie wasn’t sure if she should leave or not. She sat on her hands and waited for someone to throw her out.

"Miss, Debra," Devon said as a girl held a Tupperware container full of brownies in front of her. Debbie looked over and awkwardly smiled. "Can I interest you in a Magic Mary Jane Cake?" He picked up a brownie and split it in half, handing her one. "Eat this and wait half an hour," the girl, Tina, added. Debbie put the brownie to her lips and took a good sized bite.

——-

"Ugh, I don’t know what to do!" Vee moaned as she tried to calm her crying daughter as the other slept silently in her nest of blankets and pillows on the Gallagher couch.

Fiona walked in from the kitchen, lifting her jeans from the radiator and slipping them on. “I gotta be at work in an hour. You can stay here while I’m gone if ya like.”

"Nah, then Kev’ll just call me every five minutes checking up on me and the kids." Veronica knelt down and kissed each baby on the forehead. "Mama can’t get no peace, huh?" She cooed at them, laughing at one of them giggling.

Fiona laughed just as a soft knock was at the front door.

"Expectin’ someone?" Vee asked, laying the baby next to the other so she could put on her jacket.

"No," Fiona answered, walking toward the door. "Fuck, it better not be Robbie. Swear I’ll kill that prick."

"Better getcha bat, girl."

Fiona was all smiles until she opened the door and saw a familiar face. She froze solid, exhaling a loud breath she’d been holding in for months for him. Jimmy.

——-

"Shh, it’s okay… " Bonnie whispered as she held Carl close. They were scrunched in the empty van since her siblings were staying with an aunt for the night. Carl was crying uncontrollably, nuzzling into her bosom. Carl had thought of killing someone. He’d even made plans but actually doing it, on instinct and to save another from harm was something he couldn’t process.

He sobbed, snot and tears pouring from his face while Bonnie rubbed his back, resting her forehead on the side of his head. “I’m here. Stay with me tonight.”

——-

"Devon…" Debbie said slowly, lounging back on the sofa like she were made of pudding.

"Yes, Miss Debra."

"How long you been selling dope?"

"Too long," another voice cut in. Devon laughed as Debbie searched for a face that matched the voice. From the shadows came a man in his twenties. About six foot, wavy brown hair down to his chin, groomed facial hair and quite tan. Typical fabio type; charming and well dressed. A real smooth talker, she could tell.

The man sat next to her, throwing a smile as if she should be grateful. Debbie returned it hazily, blinking away her blush. “You’re name’s Debra?” He asked, seeming quite fascinated.

"Debbie," the young girl officiated, swirling her fingertip along the rim of her beer can.

"Ethan," he replied. "Don’t hang around this one too long, your brain’ll turn to mush," he added, pointing to Devon. The pot dealer lazily tossed a piece of popcorn at him. They both laughed. "So, you live around here, Debbie?"

Debbie nodded.

"With your boyfriend?"

"Oh, no. My family," Debbie assured.

"So he lives nearby?"

"What makes you so sure I have a boyfriend?" Debbie eyed him, a curious smirk crawling up her lips.

"Pretty girl like you always has a guy worshipping them."

Debbie felt a sad ping, realizing that Matty never exactly worshipped her.

"You wanna get outta here? You seem not so comfortable with all these tree huggers," he said, looking around. "I could drive you home if you like."

Maybe it was the smile or how sure he sounded of her deserving of adoration, but Debbie accepted his offer.

——-

The chilling air burned Lip’s face as he made his way to the Milkovich house, rushing up the creaking stairs and pounding on the door. Svetlana opened it.

"Who you are?" She asked, Yev in one arm, bottle of wine in the opposite hand with a cigarette hanging between her lips.

"Uh, Lip," he said politely, although he wished he’d been more of an asshole when he remembered this was technically the bitch who’d ruined his brother’s life (from his perspective). "You’re Mickey’s wife, yeah?"

"I no open for business right now. Come to Alibi tomorrow morning. Fifty dollars American." Svetlana was ready to close the door when-

"No. I’m here for Mandy." He smiled, joyful to say it.

Lana stopped, eyeing Lip’s size. She snorted to herself and moved away to let him in. “Big black boyfriend not going to be happy.”

Lip stepped into the living room as Mandy stepped out of her room wearing only a tail and wet hair. Lip stopped in his tracks as if he’d seen an angel. He basked in her beauty. She was covered in purple, cloudy bruises and her lip had a cut or two but she was still the most beautiful thing Lip had ever loved.

Mandy registered his presence and shook her head frightfully just as Kenyatta was coming up behind her.

"The fuck you doin’ here?" He asked fairly calm, considering.

Lip paid no attention to him. He looked at only her. “Mandy…”

"Man, get the fuck outta here ‘fore I bust yo ass up," Kenyatta warned, waving the Gallagher guy off. "Go’on, Mandy. Tell’em."

Mandy’s eyes watered as she and lip shared a gaze. She looked terrified and undeniably in love with the boy in front of her.

"Bitch!" Kenyatta squeezed her arm, dragging her closer to Lip. "Tell him whatchu told me!" He wouldn’t let go.

Mandy welled up, bringing herself to lie to Lip. She took a deep breath. “I never want to see you again.” Her face went blank as twin tears fell down her cheeks. The light in her eyes was gone. She was numb and hollow.

Lip knew it wasn’t true but the pain of Kenyatta’s cruelty felt even worse to watch Mandy suffer and eventually succumb to.

Kenyatta suddenly yanked Mandy backward and dragged her to the bedroom, shoving her in and closing the door after her. He charged back out to Lip crowding him backward. Lip was pinned to the wall with Ken’s arm across his neck, choking him. “Motherfucker… you ever come near her or talk to her again… I will kill you.” They shared an intense look.

Lip smirked somehow in this position and choked out, “funny how you’re threatened by some small thing like me. Must mean you know who she really wants.”

Kenyatta released his grip and let Lip fall to the floor heaving and gasping for air. “G’t the fuck out.”

Lip watched as Kenyatta walked back to the bedroom and heard the door slam shut.

——-

"This the place?" Ethan asked, pulling up to the Gallagher house.

"Mhm," Debbie replied, sober now. "Thanks for the ride." She reached for the door but was stopped. She turned.

"Can I, uh, can I get your number?" Ethan asked, eyeing her up and down.

Debbie laughed awkwardly to herself reaching for his phone. She plugged her number in. “Goodnight,” she said smiling. She exited the car and looked into the rolled down window.

"Goodnight, Miss Debbie."

Debbie was beet red, grinning wide as she walked up her stairs, interrupted by a man being thrown out her door.

"Get outta here!" Fiona screamed and Debbie suddenly realized it was Jimmy.

She said nothing as her big sister continued to holler as Jimmy humbly went to his car. Once he’d driven off, Debbie looked at Fiona.

"Guess who’s been paying for Ian’s treatment?" She rhetorically asked, livid. "Ugh, I gotta go to work!"

——-

"Next in line," a woman behind a glass case called out at the testing center. Mickey walked up and looked at them. "Name?"

"Milkovich."

"First?"

"Michael."

She shuffled through several envelopes and found Mickey’s. “Here ya go, can I just see your I.D.?”

Mickey pulled out his license and left shortly after with a large envelope in hand. He waited to open it until he got home, tearing it open with his teeth. He didn’t prepare himself. He wanted to get it over with. He pulled out the results.

He wasn’t sure how he felt. Cheated. Pissed off.

Relieved.

Yevgeny Milkovich was not his son.

**Author's Note:**

> While this story focuses of Ian's bipolar storyline, the chapters are written almost like episodes, with subplots and arcs. Trying to expand my writing to other characters beside Ian and Mickey. Enjoy.


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